Isabelle Reid's Train Wreck

Chapter One

I stared vacantly at the mirror in front of me - this woman was a stranger. She was the one they all thought I should be; a star, a fashion designer's dream and the other half of the It indie couple. She was the kind of woman who never got drunk or did anything wrong since she knew when to say no while managing to look fabulous at all times, especially when smiling vacantly. She was the musical star with the golden voice and loved by millions. This reflection was supposed to be whom I was, but tonight, like every other night, it was just a role I was playing.

I fingered a loose strand of my long, modish jet black hair. It was pulled back in a stylish, elegant twist. A few strands snuck free, purposely planned by my hair dresser. I was a musician, after all. I had to look perfect, but not too perfect. The glossy red lip gloss and the dark smoky eye make-up enhanced my already pale complexion. With the help of several pounds of make-up, my skin looked smooth and untarnished. With a sigh, I put on a pair of Gucci sunglasses, hiding my troubled green eyes from view. I wanted to hide even from myself.

I stood, wrapping my silk robe tighter to me. This was what I wanted - to be a rockstar and an A-List celebrity. I just hadn't realized I would change in the process. I certainly hadn't thought my supposed one and only love would change as well – all were for the worse.

Picking up the clothes my stylist had laid out for me had me frowning yet again. The clothes were wonderful but I wanted to be me for once and wear what I wanted to wear. Even when we had downtime on tour I didn't get that chance since we were constantly being filmed. Next week it would only get worse. MTV crews were arriving to start filming a segment on our touring life. Hopefully my fiancé Lars would behave himself in front of the cameras. Otherwise our manager Karl was going to have a tough time spinning our "fabulously romantic love story", as the press liked to put it.

I slipped into the super skinny black faux leather pants and groaned. My stylist was trying to insinuate I was fat. The clothes she bought me were getting tighter and tighter and it certainly wasn't because I was gaining weight. With my own trainer and daily workouts, no one would let that happen. I had a strict diet and schedule to adhere to. Though if it was up to, well, no use thinking that way. It wasn't up to me.

"Do you need help in there?" called out Cameron's chipper voice. My personal assistant was always chipper. It annoyed me to no end.

"Of course not." I finished dressing, putting on my fitted black bomber jacket before opening the door.

Cameron stood at the ready to slip on a long gold necklace around my neck. I held out my arms as she slipped on numerous bracelets. She added a large white belt to my outfit and held out a pair of strappy black high heels. It didn't matter that there was snow on the ground in New York City. I was wearing heels. I prayed I didn't slip on the ice. I did not want to have my picture plastered all over the Internet like that.

"Thanks," I said, though she paid me no mind. She was much more loyal to my Lars, after all. I was pretty sure they were screwing, though I could be wrong. Some days I hoped I was wrong. Others, I hoped I was right. Every day I wished I cared one way or the other.

She eyed me critically. "Okay, you look good. Perfect." She looked at the clipboard in her hand. "Lars and the boys have already headed to the party. This one is being held by Preston. He is the lead singer of-"

I cut her off. "The Moon Tower. My opening band. I know." I didn't want to go tonight. This was our second performance here at Madison Square Garden, with the final show tomorrow. All I wanted was to go back to my hotel room and take a hot warm bath. Unfortunately, my management didn't want people to get the wrong idea about Lars and me. He couldn't always be going to functions alone. Instead of telling him to stay home, I had to be the grown up and go to the same functions as him.